The Case of the Lost Boy (4 page)

“Buddy!” Connor says, like I did a bad thing.

But the growling works. The man takes two steps back, and Connor and I continue on our way.

The man is still watching us, though.

Is he going to follow us?

I hope not. I keep checking over my shoulder, but I don’t see him coming. What a relief.

Connor and I keep going. We turn another corner, and I forget all about that man because we’re on
my
street now. My house is straight ahead.

I can smell it. I can see it. I run toward it as fast as I can. As fast as Connor can run.

There are newspapers in the driveway. Lots of newspapers. I sniff the entire pile. Interesting. Some of them weren’t delivered by our regular paper girl.

I sniff all around the driveway. I sniff the grass. I sniff the big tree in the middle of the yard. Other dogs have been here. Dogs I don’t know.

“What are you doing, Buddy?” Connor asks as he follows me around my yard.

“Looking for clues,” I tell him.

The only clue I have found so far is: My people haven’t been here in a very long time. I can hardly smell them at all. And this is their yard.

I think Connor understands what I said because he lets go of my leash. Good! It’s much easier to search for clues when you aren’t dragging a human behind you.

I scamper up the front steps. I peer inside the tall, skinny window next to the door. There are no lights on inside. No jackets on the hook. No shoes by the door.

Something is wrong. I can feel it all the way from my head to my tail. If only I could go inside and check things out. I try and wiggle the door open with my nose. It doesn’t budge.

I scratch at the door. But no one comes to let me in.

There’s a window on the back porch that’s sometimes open. Maybe I can get in through there?

I race around the side of the house, but the gate is closed. I can’t get to the backyard.

I check the other side of the house. This gate is closed, too. What now?

Maybe Connor will open the gate for me. I go back around to the front of the house.

But when I get there, Connor is gone.

Where’s Connor?

I peer up and down the street. I don’t see him anywhere.

What happened? Where’d he go?

I see a pair of squinty eyes in the bushes across the street. They’re too low to the ground to be Connor’s eyes. Too yellow, too.

I know who it is. It’s Cat with No Name.

Cat with No Name and I are not friends. But maybe he saw something. Maybe he knows where Connor went.

“Did you see me with a boy a little while ago?” I call to the cat.

“Of course,” he replies. He blinks his eyes. “I’m not blind.”

Cats can be rude sometimes, but I try not to let it get to me.

“Did you see where the boy went?” I ask.

The cat steps out from the bushes. “Yes.”

I wait for him to say more, but he just licks his paw.

“Where did he go?” I ask.

“Away.”

“Away where?”

“How would I know? Is it my job to keep track of all your humans?”

Connor isn’t exactly
my
human, but that’s beside the point. “What exactly did you see?” I ask.

“I told you,” the cat says. “I saw you with the human. I saw you run around to the backyard. I saw the human run away.”

Connor ran away? “Where did he go?”

The cat sighs. “Don’t you listen? I’ve just told you twice now. He ran
away
.”

Cats aren’t just rude. They’re also not very helpful.

“Thanks,” I say. Thanks for nothing. I turn around and press my nose to the ground. I’ll find Connor by myself. It hasn’t been that long since he was here. It shouldn’t be hard to pick up his scent.

Ah. There it is. A sweet blending of bacon, eggs, toothpaste, and dirt. Connor.

I follow the trail. Around the tree ... across the yard ... down the sidewalk ... out into the street ... and ... that’s it.

The scent is gone. Just like that. Right here in the middle of the street.

Where did he go? I can’t tell. There are too many smells: humans, flowers, squirrels, rabbits, cars, trucks, buses.

A poodle and his human walk toward me. I don’t think they live around here. I’ve never seen them before.

“What are you looking for?” the poodle asks.

“I’m looking for a boy that smells like bacon, eggs, toothpaste, and dirt. Have you smelled him? Have you seen him?”

“I don’t think so,” the poodle says. “Where did you lose him?”

“Right here.”

The poodle’s human picks up my leash. He smells like peanut butter. I LOVE peanut butter. It’s my favorite food!

“Did you get away from someone, boy?” Peanut Butter Human asks me. “Do you have a tag?” He feels along my collar, but there is no tag. Not anymore.

Uh-oh. No tag. No human. If I’m not careful, I’m going to end up right back at the
P-O-U-N-D
.

I have to get out of here. I jerk my collar out of the human’s grasp and RUN.

“Wait!” Peanut Butter Human calls after me. “Come back!”

But no way am I going back. I run, run, run ... as fast as I can. I don’t even look over my shoulder until I am around the corner.

Whew! Peanut Butter Human is not following me.

I round another corner, and I’m back on Connor’s street. My nose twitches. I pick up Connor’s trail, but I think it’s the trail he left when he was with me. I don’t think he’s been back.

Mouse lifts his head when I pass by his house. “HEY, KING,” he says. “WHAT’S THE MATTER? YOU SMELL WORRIED.”

I explain how I have lost another human. And this one doesn’t even belong to me. I feel like I am losing humans left and right.

“OH, COME ON,” Mouse says. “THE BOY MAY NOT ACTUALLY BE LOST. MAYBE HE FOUND HIS WAY HOME.”

“How?” I wonder. “How could he have gotten home ahead of me? And if he went home, why does his trail lead to the middle of the road and then disappear?”

“MAYBE SOMEONE IN A CAR PICKED HIM UP AND TOOK HIM HOME,” Mouse says.

“Maybe,” I say. “But who would do that? The family just moved here. They don’t know many people.”

“WOULD HE GET INTO A CAR WITH A STRANGER?” Mouse asks.

I gulp. I hope not. Bad things can happen if you get into a car with someone you don’t know.

“TELL YOU WHAT,” Mouse says. “WHY DON’T YOU GO HOME AND SEE IF HE’S THERE? I’LL PUT OUT AN ALERT OVER THE NETWORK AND SEE WHAT I CAN FIND OUT.”

Mouse is the perfect dog to send out an alert. He’s so loud that dogs several blocks away can hear him.

Those dogs will pass the message on to other dogs. Pretty soon the whole town will know we’re looking for Connor.

“Thanks, Mouse.”

I continue on to Connor’s house. My nose is in overdrive. I smell Connor here and I smell him there, but I can’t tell if these are new smells or old smells.

When I get back to the house, I scratch on the front door. Mom opens it.

“Buddy!” she exclaims. She looks around. “Where’s Connor?”

My tail droops. “You mean he’s not here?”

Mom comes all the way out of the house. She picks up my leash, then peers up and down the street.

“Where’s Connor?” she asks again. Louder this time.

I can’t even look at her. “I don’t know,” I mumble.

It’s my fault he’s lost. I should have been watching him. I should have stayed with him. But instead I went searching for clues about my family.

I’m a
bad dog
.

Mom leads me inside. “You stay here,” she says. She doesn’t even unsnap my leash. She heads back outside and closes the door behind her.

Hey! What about me?
I scratch at the door.
Don’t you want me to help you find Connor
?

But I am talking to a closed door.

I run to the window. Mom is already halfway up the block. I hear her calling, “Connor! Connor, where are you?”

“Please,” I howl. “Come back and get me! I can help you find him!”

Mom keeps walking. I don’t think her hearing is very good.

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN HEADING IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION,” I yell.

It doesn’t matter. Mom continues up the hill until I don’t see her anymore.

Mom is gone a long time. A really long time. I wonder if she’s ever coming back.

I climb up onto the couch because sometimes that makes humans come back faster. But it doesn’t seem to work this time.

I go to the front door. Too bad it’s not a door like the garage door at Kayla’s house. To open that door, all you have to do is jump really high and hit the button with your nose. But you need human paws to open this kind of door. You need to be able to wrap your whole paw around it, turn it, and pull. All at the same time. I’ve never met a dog who could do it.

I walk around and check all the doors and windows in the whole house. Just in case there is one that is open.

There isn’t.

I go back to the couch and wait. And wait.

And wait some more.

Finally Mom comes back. She is alone.

I hop down from the couch and go to greet her at the door.

She doesn’t pay any attention to me. She goes straight to the kitchen and picks up the phone.

“Hello? My son is missing,” she says into the phone. “About an hour ... but he’s only nine! Yes ... yes ... okay, thank you.”

She hangs up and starts walking back and forth
inside
the house. I don’t know why she does this. She’s not going to find Connor inside the house. If she wants to find him, we have to go back outside.

The doorbell rings, and Mom and I hurry to the door. There are two police officers standing on the front step. Mom opens the door to let them in, and I think about running out to go look for Connor some more. But it’s probably better to stay here and see if I can help the police.

Besides, they smell good. I can tell that one of them had a jelly-filled donut for breakfast. He’s even got a small blob of jelly on his pants. I lick it up and he pats my head. The other officer had a plain donut for breakfast.

I am not picky about my donuts. Plain donuts. Jelly-filled donuts. Donuts with sprinkles. They’re all my favorite food!

Jelly Donut takes out a notebook and a pen. “I understand your boy is missing?” he says.

“Yes,” Mom says. Her voice cracks. “He took our dog for a walk. The dog came back, but he didn’t. I don’t know where he could be.”

“Don’t worry, Ma’am,” Plain Donut says. “We’ll find him. But first we need to ask you some questions. When did you last see him? What time?”

“About eight-thirty this morning.”

“And what time did the dog come back?” Jelly Donut asks.

I’m not sure what time is, but humans sure talk about it a lot.

“It was ten after nine,” Mom says. “He’s a new dog. We just got him yesterday. I don’t know if he pulled too hard and Connor couldn’t hold onto his leash or ... if something happened.”

She means something bad.

Could
something bad have happened to Connor?

While Mom and the police talk some more, I make a list inside my head of all the bad things that could have happened to Connor:

He could have gotten hurt.

He could have run away. He could have gone back to where his dad and his friends live.